


Of Letters and Fellowships and Everything in Between

by MashpotatoeQueen5



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (hE SUCKS), Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, And also long suffering, And is very aware and anxious about it, Aragorn is Long Suffering, Aragorn is related to a big baddie, As smol tiny children, Beauxbatons, Bilbo teaches Herbology, But that's for another fic, Dementors, Denethor's A+ Parenting, Elrond teaches Transfigurations, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Gimli is Fabulous, Gimli is proud of his family, He and Legolas have a Quidditch Rivalry, He just wants friends, Hobbiton, Hobbiton is A Squib Town, I have made them all first years, I'll add tags as they seem appropriate, I've filled in all the teachers and students and bad guys with Tolkien characters, Legolas is Extra as hell and in all honesty I'm living for it, Magic, Merry and Pippin pull pranks, Monsters, Mysteries, None of the actual Harry Potter Characters are attending, Now he runs Beauxbatons, Oh gods where to start, Quidditch, Sam Gamgee is the best, Sneaking Around, Sneaking Out, The Fellowship Goes to Hogwarts!, There's this whole other side adventure with him and Thorin, Thranduil was a spy in the first wazard war, Unicorns, Will Go Through All Seven Years, Witches and Wizards, alright
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:29:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashpotatoeQueen5/pseuds/MashpotatoeQueen5
Summary: Aragorn is a boy running away from his heritage. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin are the first proper wizards of the Shire since Bilbo Baggins himself. Boromir is trying to uphold the family honor. Gimli really wants to play quiditch and do the Durins proud. And Legolas just wants to move freely without his father breathing down his back. Luckily, Hogwarts will always be there to welcome them home.Or: the fellowship goes to Hogwarts, Sauron is rising, and everything is more than a little insane.





	1. And So It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is written in dedication to one of my very good friends.
> 
> *****This chapter contains mentions of mild neglect and verbal abuse! If this will trigger you or make you sad in any way, please do not read cause I don't want to hurt you and I want you to be happy in life.*****

The envelope was pale, crisp, and neat, and scrawled upon the parchment were but a few simple words:

_Mr. A. King_

_The Oak Tree in the Yard_

_3, Bruinen Road_

_Imladris_

_Rivendell_

Were it any other letter, Aragorn would have already teared it open and examined its contents. But this was no ordinary letter, for there, sealing the envelope closed, was a very familiar insignia, which marked the letter to be no ordinary letter at all.

It was his Hogwarts acceptance letter, and Aragorn couldn't be more rejected.

He had been hoping, he guessed, that he would be able to avoid it. That he would turn out to be a squib, or a muggle, or perhaps he would be overlooked all together. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with Hogwarts.

He wanted to avoid the stares. He wanted to avoid the belittling whispers and the scathing, judging looks. He wanted to avoid being the center of attention, because he hated attention, especially that kind of attention.

It was bad enough when people came to visit his adoptive father and met him, causing them to do a double-take and then look at Elrond with incredulous eyes, as if he wasn't actually in the room.

("Aragorn King? You mean the Aragorn King? Grandson of Isildur King?")*

And that was his defining trait, that he was related to a man he had never met. No matter that he wasn't even alive when Isildur betrayed the order and allowed the Dark Lord to rise to power, causing millions to lose their lives. No matter that his father was a good man who fought hard against the darkness, till his dying breath. No matter that the Dark Lord was dead now, dead and gone for the rest of forever.**

(He hoped…)

And now he would have to deal with an entire school of people doing just that. Staring and hating and judging him for crimes he had never committed and lives he could never save.

And he didn't want it. He just wanted to be normal…

"Estel?"

The brunette jumped at the sound of his nickname, but not enough to make him fall from his perch. With a small sigh- it appeared as if his time of thinking was about to come to an end- he looked down through the branches in order to spot his father.

"Yeah Dad?"

"Are you alright? You've been up there for quite a while."

The concern was real, not fake or mocking, and he was happier for it; at least he knew someone didn't care about his heritage.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just... thinking."

Elrond nodded, but did not push for further answers, which was something Aragorn appreciated.

"We'll be leaving for Diagon Alley tomorrow, just to let you know. Your brothers are most… excited.

Here the elder frowned, and Aragorn could not help but laugh. The twins were no doubt plotting some ridiculous prank, and for the first time since he received his letter that morning, he felt excited for what was to come.

With a flying leap, he jumped down from the oak tree and landed on the ground next to his father, who raised an eyebrow at his antics.

Aragorn simply grinned, deciding that he would deal with Hogwarts when he was at Hogwarts, and would enjoy the rest of his summer while he still could. Then he took off running to the house, calling over his shoulder that he was hungry for lunch.***

Elrond's eyebrow creeped even higher upon his face, but there was a smile in his eyes as he called for the boy to make his own lunch. Then he took off after his son, at a much more stately pace.

* * *

When Boromir received his acceptance letter, no one was surprised.

His father gave him a proud pat on the shoulder and ruffled his hair, telling him that they would hold a party in celebration. His brother hugged him tightly in excitement, his mouth babbling a hundred words a minute about all the various things he would get to do and all the different people he would get to meet, describing the different houses once more in an endless tirade that Boromir patiently endured, if only to make Faramir happy.

Later, his father took him to the side and explained to him how he was destined to become a prefect and head boy for Gryffindor, just like everyone else in the family. Boromir had nodded eagerly along until the man looked away, and then he had despaired; he was not of the intellectual sorts.

(All he really wanted to do was play quidditch.)

And then, even later, when his father had gotten drunk and yelled at Faramir again, Boromir had quickly picked his brother up- he was rather strong for an eleven year old and his little brother was rather small for a nine year old- and tucked him into bed, shutting the door in hopes of blocking out the noise.

When Faramir had asked for him to stay, Boromir happily complied, cramming himself into the tiny bed with the younger. Then he tucked the blond head under his chin and talked of the faraway school and all the various things he was going to do there. About how he would send sweets and letters back home every single day and how he would play pranks on his teachers and make mistakes on his homework because his genius little brother wasn't there to help him.

And when he had at last talked Faramir to sleep, he did not leave. He laid there, listening to his father's drunken slurring and worrying about what would happen when he was no longer there to protect his little brother from it.

And then he slept, tugging Faramir close and hoping that an answer could be found in his dreams.

* * *

The Shire was a lovely place to be in the summer. The grass was always green and bright, the brooks bubbled merrily through the rolling hills, and flowers blossomed in a rainbow of colors as far as the eye could see.

The people were rather lovely as well. They were kind and hospitable, and a smile was always quick to their faces. They tended to their gardens and their potions, and enjoyed the pleasantries of muggle appliances.

For the Shire was not a wizard community, nor a muggle community, but a squib community.

The town had developed over the years, squibs from all around finding a home amongst people who were just like them, where they were not ridiculed or treated as less. Where they could make a life for themselves as themselves, where they would not have to pretend to be a muggle but would not have to pretend to be a witch or a wizard.

It was a small, bustling community, and the squibs were not bitter towards their magical relations. No, not at all.

(At least, most were not. Or some. Or a few…)

So there the people lived with no magic but awareness of magic, and that was how it always was, with a few notable exceptions.

It was here, amidst a large orchid, that some of those notable exceptions were placed. They were clambering up the trees, daring each other to climb the highest or the fastest, when something interrupted their game.

Four large birds swooped down from the sky, landing in front of the four boys, in their claws four identical looking envelopes.

Now, the sight of letter-bearing owls was not too peculiar. Squibs had families and friends who they corresponded with, and the birds always were the most popular choice for communication amongst the wizarding class.

But still, having the owls arrive at the exact same time was very strange.

Eagerly, the boys grabbed the letters from waiting claws, their eyes getting wider and wider as they read further and further into the note.

There was a moment of silence once they finished reading, the children looking at one another with bated breath.

Then cheers of excitement split through the air, loud enough to scare off the birds.

"We're going to Hogwarts!"

"We're going to Hogwarts!"

"We have to tell Bilbo!"

They ran through the village, their cries of triumph shattering the peaceful silence there. When they at last reached the familiar green door, they stormed in without even a knock, for Frodo- one of the lucky boys- lived there with the wizard, and the house had become their stomping grounds.

"Uncle Bilbo!"

"Bilbo! Look!"

"We got our letters!"

"We're going to Hogwarts, Sir! Just like in your stories!" ****

Delighted laughter interrupted their enthusiastic chatter, and they could not help but join in, for their cheer was overflowing and their joy was infectious.

Bilbo was a short man, and the only proper wizard in all of the Shire. He had long told stories of his life in the wizarding school- both as a teacher and as a student- and had many a parent hunt him down for putting tales of magic and mischief into their children's heads.

"That's great, lads! I can't wait to see you all there! Your parents must be so happy-"

Upon seeing the boys alarmed expressions, he paused his thrilled speech and crossed his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"You have told your parents, right?"

Merry and Pippin glanced at each other simultaneously, eyes wide, and then turned on their heels and ran to the door- letters still grasped tightly in their hands and brown curls bouncing upon their heads- yelling over their shoulders their apologies and see-you-laters.

Sam stood stock still for a single moment, before he too excused himself in order to go and tell his own father, though at least he had the decency to give a proper goodbye and to not slam the door on the way out.

When at last the two were alone, Frodo looked up at his uncle with a confused look.

"Uncle Bilbo, you do know that their parents wouldn't have minded them telling you first, right?"

The herbology professor looked down to meet his nephews brilliant blues, his own brown eyes filled with mischievousness

"Yes Frodo, I know, I just wanted to see their expressions…"

They laughed, their happiness bright, and went over what the new pupil would need to get in Diagon Alley, when would be a good time for them to leave, and if they would like to get the materials with the rest of the new students, which was a definite yes.

And then Bilbo was pulling the boy along to his study, his eyes bright, and leaning in close, as if to tell a secret.

"I'm about to give you something, Frodo, something that I found in my own school days at Hogwarts."

The younger eagerly opened his palm, but his face changed to confusion when he saw what was placed there.

"It's a ring?"

Indeed, it was, a simple gold ring with no decorations or designs. Plain and non-descript.

"Yes. It is, but it's a magic ring. Go on, put it on."

Frodo did, but nothing changed for him. Frowning, he looked up at his uncle.

"Look down, lad"

When the boy did so, he could not help but yelp in surprise, for his body was no longer there. When he understood the implications of what the trinket could do, he smiled brightly and took it off, slipping it safely into his pocket. Then he leapt upon Bilbo and gave him a fierce hug, his excitement bright and his laughter mingling with the elder's.

All was well.

For now.

* * *

Gimli received his letter in the middle of a quidditch match.

He had been flying through the air, Quaffle in hand, and was about to make a score when a large barn owl had landed upon his head and made him swerve, off balance and blinded by feathers.

He crash landed, and then the bird had jumped off and landed in front of him, giving him a nasty look, as if it was his fault that they went down.

Still, when he saw what was grasped in the owl's claws he forgot all about lost victories and unexpected falls. He eagerly grabbed the envelope and went back into the air, yelling with all his might and proudly showing off the paper to his older cousins, Fili and Kili, when they flew over to have a look.

They had congratulated him and insisted that they go and show the parents, to which Gimli had happily complied.

Entering the large stone house with letter held high ignited an instant response, and he soon found himself surrounded by his family. His father slapped him on the back and Dwalin growled out a congratulations. Bombur somehow concocted a huge array of food, and Bofor brought out the butterbeer and the firewhiskey, and Gimli's acceptance into Hogwarts deteriorated into a party.

But that wasn't so surprising; in his family, everything somehow deteriorated into a party.*****

* * *

Legolas was looking out his window, hoping to see a familiar flash of white in the dark horizon, when his father abruptly opened the door to his room, making him jump.

"What are you doing, Legolas?"

Legolas glanced back outside, now hoping not to see a familiar flash of white in the dark horizon. His Ada couldn't know, not until it was too late.

"Nothing Ada. Just… thinking."***

Thranduil did not look convinced, raising an eyebrow in questioning manner.

"Hmm? What about?"

Legolas sighed and curled into the window seat, eyes straying to the world outside once more.

"Not anything in particular, Ada."

His father was silent for a few moments, and he feared that Thranduil would try and pry once more. But he did not, simply leaving the room as silently as he entered.

Legolas slumped even further against the pane the second he was alone, letting his relief out with a single gust of air. His secret was safe, for now.

Suddenly, the blonde sat up straighter- a smile lighting up on his face- for there, in the distance, he could see a speck of white, rapidly moving closer.

As fast as he could, he dashed to the door and checked the hallway. Once he saw it was all clear, he ran back to the window and opened it wide, waving his hands in exaggerated motions in order to attract the speck's attention.

With a swerving movement, the white spot changed course and headed to Legolas, growing form a meaningless dot to a large snowy owl, which landed in front of the youth in a dramatic flurry of wings.

He smiled, reaching out and gently stroking the soft feathers, crooning out compliments and praises as he did so.

"That's a good boy, Arod. You did so well… C'mon, let's get you something to drink, and I got some treats for you!"

Arod cooed appreciatively, pecking lightly at his master's ear in affection, and flew over to the large cage in the corner of the bedroom, where the promised treats were waiting.******

As his owl ate, Legolas carefully untied the letters from it's leg and took them to his bed, where he sat and opened the first envelope, a green one addressed with only his name. Quickly he read through it's contents.

Dear Mr. Greanleaf,

This letter is a response to the one you sent requesting your studies take place in Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While it is unusual for us to accept a student outside of our assigned lists, I see no reason for you not to attend, as long as your parents or guardians agree to the change, of course.

Along with this letter, I have sent our customary Hogwart's Acceptance Letter, which includes all the supplies you will need to acquire before school starts.

There are two ways you can come to Hogwarts, either by the Hogwarts Express- which leaves Station 9 ¾ on September First- or you may have a parent or guardian drop you off on the premises.

If you do choose to attend Hogwarts, please have your parent or guardian send an owl that states you have their full permission.

Looking forward to your possible attendance, and hoping to see you next year,

Gandalf Grey

Headmaster *******

Legolas pumped his fist in the air, resisting the urge to shout in triumph. It had worked. His plan had worked! He wouldn't have to go to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic after all!

His father was a good man, of this he was sure, but he was also the most overprotective person he had ever met.

And he knew, he knew, that Thranduil just didn't want to lose him. That his father did what he did because he was scared of losing him, like he lost his wife. That he should really be grateful that his father cared so much, even if the way he cared wasn't the most obvious.

But it was getting ridiculous. Too extreme. Legolas couldn't even go outside- into his own backyard- without someone following him, hovering just a few steps away. He wasn't allowed into town, muggle or otherwise, without a full-blown escort, bodyguards included.

And wherever he went within the house, someone always somehow found themselves in the same room, whether it be the butler dusting a dustless vase or a maid shining spotless cutlery.

The worst part was that despite all the company, Legolas always felt so alone. No one really talked to him, and the little conversation he instigated were always filled with short, curt answers and an endless amount of Master Greenleaf 's and Mister Legolas's and Sir's, and so many tones of formality and polite toleration that it offered no comfort.

And Legolas' father, despite putting the staff up to his constant surveillance, was rarely in his life at all. The man was always busy with work and business, always sending out messages and always signing permission forms and rule agreements, and that was during the summer, when his father was not being headmaster over in Beauxbaton. During school months, Legolas wa lucky if he talked to his father for more than a minute at a time.

When he turned eleven the subject of schools started to pop up, and it was decided- decided for him- that he would attend his father's school.

And Legolas loved Beauxbatons, he had practically grown up there. (The professors used to joke that he was the school mascot.) He loved the elegant stonework and the carefully manicured gardens. He loved his dorms there, which he shared with his father, and the students who had doted upon him.

But the idea of being stuck there- trapped- for the rest of his childhood. Always being watched, never being alone (but always being alone at the same time). Always being someone who was different, always someone you had to be careful around, because he was the headmaster's son.

And he couldn't. He didn't want that. He wanted to make friends, he wanted to talk and laugh and tell silly stories without the fear of being watched. He wanted to be free to make his own choices, to go outside and climb a tree without ten adults suddenly appearing to try and persuade him to come down. He wanted to not be special or important or treated differently, but accepted and belonging and welcomed.

And he would never be able to do that in his father's school.

And so he had sent a letter to Hogwarts, asking- begging- for them to allow him to attend. He had prepared himself for declination, but they had said yes. They had said yes. And now all he had to do was convince his Ada to let him go, and he was set.

And he could do that. He could.

With a joyful smile he hugged the letter close, his happiness bursting out of him with a brilliant laugh. Suddenly, his excitement was too much to keep still any longer, and he leapt from the bed, dancing around the room with his hands high in the air, reaching for the nonexistent stars.

Upon seeing his master dancing, Arod quickly joined in, flying around the blonde in graceful swoops, occasionally joining the gleeful cries with his own loud screech.

And then Legolas was laughing, taking a flying jump to his bed and landing on his belly, sliding a few feet on the silky sheets.

Still giggling from excursion and glee, he quickly reached out and grabbed the second letter, the one with elegant blue script, and gently broke the unfamiliar seal.

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...**


	2. Of Old Friendships and New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not very good, or very long, and only includes a few characters, but I felt as if all the characters who were not in this chapter wouldn't experience anything too important to the plot, so I didn't write them.
> 
> I did not include Diagon Alley, mainly because the sound of writing eight wand sortings and robe gatherings sounded boring and unnecessary. If you would like me to, though, I'll definitely write it. :)
> 
> Anyways, Hope you enjoy!

" _C'mon_ Bilbo! We're gunna be late!"

Pippin and Merry were racing ahead,  _again_ , their various luggage bouncing every which way upon their trolleys. Sam watched on with an exasperated sigh, and Frodo and Bilbo laughed at their antics.

He never really did understand how the two became so mischievous and silly. It seemed like just yesterday he was offering two shy little boys to join in on a game and now suddenly  _they_ were the ones taking his hand and dragging him along on random, sometimes stupid, adventures.

"Hurry up, Sam!"

That was his cue.

With a sigh, he started off with a light jog and caught up with Frodo, who flashed him a sunny smile in response. He smiled back, because it was hard to be anxious about the future when your best friend was so excited for it, and they both picked up speed in hopes of keeping up with the loud, talkative bouncy-balls that just so happened to be Merry and Pippin.

When they at last arrived at the entrance to platform 9 ¾ , Sam was panting lightly in excursion. He was also confused.

_Where was the train?_

It was then that Bilbo explained the process of going through the solid brick wall in order to get to the platform. Merry and Pippin seemed excited about it- they had probably ran into plenty of walls in their lifetimes- and Frodo seemed confused but willing to try.

Sam was completely terrified and flabbergasted, because they wanted him to  _run into a wall._

On  _purpose_.*

"Alright Merry, you first."

The herbology professor smiled at the youth, who flashed his own smile before running full tilt towards the barrier.**

In an instant, he vanished.

Sam's jaw dropped in response.

Pippin went next, eager to join his partner in crime, and he too disappeared into thin air.

Then went Frodo, who flashed Sam an encouraging grin as he took off.

Then it was his turn.

Nervously, Sam gulped, his grip tightening upon the trolley's handle.

He looked up when a hand landed firmly on his shoulder, only to be met with Bilbo's knowing smile.

"Go along Sam, they're waiting for you."

Sam nodded, his face set in determination, and started to run.

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a cacophony of noise. Parents were yelling to their children, asking them to write and to stay out of trouble. Old friends were giving jubilant greetings, younger children were playing, babies were crying, owls were screeching, and the train steamed and whistled.

He blinked, trying to accustom himself to the sound, but then their was a hand on his shoulder and Frodo was their, grinning brightly. Obediently, he followed his friend through the crowds until they found Merry and Pippin, who were gushing over how they had run through the brick wall.

Bilbo soon joined them, and then they were hustling and bustling through mass of people once more.

They were situated upon the train and their luggage was neatly stowed. Sam gently set Bill- he had insisted on calling it Bill despite the other's protestations- the pygmy owl on it's own seat.

Then Bilbo was calling out for them to have a safe trip and they were all frantically waving out the window, even though they would see the man around Hogwarts. He was, after all, a professor there.

And then the train was moving down the tracks, a piercing whistle echoing through the caverns and drowning out the cries of farewells.

Sam was sitting back more comfortably into the cushion, preparing himself to enjoy the long journey ahead, when he noticed there was a boy looking through the window of the compartment.

The boy's hood was pulled up and the glass was blurred, so he couldn't see to many details, but still, he found it rather odd…

But then Merry and Pippin were bringing out the sandwiches and Sam was too immersed in the idea of food to care much.

By the time he remembered to look back at the window, the boy was long gone.***

* * *

Aragorn dragged his luggage once more through the aisle, trying to find an empty compartment. Or, at least, one without fifty people in it.

His elder brothers had offered to let him sit with them, but their compartment had been filled with friends- and more importantly,  _people-_ and students that he had never met, and they had  _looked_ at him and he was out of there before Elladan had even gotten a chance to say hello.

Right before he was about to give up- Perhaps he would go back to that one compartment with those four boys? They seemed nice enough…- he noticed an empty compartment near the end of the train.

With a sigh of relief, Aragorn started to open the door.

It was then he realized that the compartment was not  _completely_ empty…

There was one other person there.

It was a boy, so slight and thin that he was almost non-existent. He had long golden hair that was wrapped into a tight bun, and his fingers were twisting and spinning a long, elegant wand with an ivory handle.****

Aragorn considered quietly closing the door and going to search for an _actual_ empty compartment, but something must have alerted the blonde of his presence, because the boy swiveled around in his seat, where he had been watching the world go by, and looked at him.

The smile offered from the boy seemed genuine enough, and so Aragorn flashed his own- slightly sheepish- smile and stepped a little further into the compartment.

"Uh, do you mind if I sit with you? Everywhere else is kind of full…"

( _Or, at least, more full than this one… But the other boy didn't need to know that…_ )

The blonde leapt up, a brilliant grin upon his face, and shook his head empathetically.

"Oh, no, no, not at all. It's perfectly fine! Here, uh, let me help with that."

Together,with a lot of grunting and maneuvering, the two boys managed to heave Aragorn's trunk onto the luggage rack.

Once finished, Aragorn plopped down on the seat and tried to catch his breath, his eyes closed.

As it turned out, he would not have long to rest.

"Soo, what's your name? Mine's Legolas. Legolas Greanleaf."

Aragorn peeked his eyelid open, preparing himself for the customary shock, incredulousness, anger, and/or fear.

He almost didn't want to tell. Almost wanted to give a different name, to save the tentative friendship-like thing that was developing between himself and the strange blonde boy.

But what was the point? If he gave a false name, it would just be revealed later at the sorting ceremony that he was lying. Then he wouldn't only see anger or fear, he'd see betrayal too.

And he was  _not_  his grandfather. He was  _never_  going to betray  _anyone_.

_Ever_.

"I'm Aragorn King."

Instinctively, he tensed, waiting for the denial. The cold shoulder. The  _hate_.

What he got instead was a blinding smile.

"Cool name! So, what's your wand made out of, mine's made out of Applewood, and it has a Unicorn Hair core…" *****

Aragorn could not help but blink at the complete lack of response, for Legolas was treating the situation as if he had  _not_  just met the grandson of the most detested wizard in the last ten centuries. ******

And as he dazedly explained that his own wand was made with Willow wood and with a Phoenix core, he couldn't help but allow an inkling of hope blossom in his chest.*******

And as Legolas made him laugh more than he had in months, he could feel the cements of friendship being formed.

And as the blonde's ringing laughter mingled with his own, Aragorn could not help but think that his year would not be quite as bad as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND CUT! :D
> 
> Notes:
> 
> * Yes, I know that Sam is a magic, but he was also raised in a Squib community. As such, he won't be used to enchantments and such, and the idea of running straight into a wall is hard to get around when you are not used to the idea of it.
> 
> ** Just in case you didn't get it the last chapter, I made Bilbo a herbolgy professor. Yup... Also, characters from The Hobbit will appear in this story, but only as professors. I have this whole background planned out for them... Maybe I'll write it some day... Maybe I wont. :/
> 
> *** This was my take on the Prancing Pony Scene, trying to wrangle it into a Hogwarts world...
> 
> **** I imagine that Legolas wouldn't get out much, or exercise much, because of his fathers over protectiveness, and that would make him rather pale and thin and kind of unhealthy looking. *shrugs* I don't know if that makes sense or not.
> 
> ***** I based all my wand choices off of this super helpful website here: wiki/Wand Applewood is a wood that does not mix well with Dark Magic, and it says owners of Applewood live long lives and are often well loved. Owners of Applewood also sometimes have the ability to converse with other magical creatures in their native tongues. A Unicorn Hair Core is the least likely core to turn to the dark arts, and it's a consistent and loyal kind of core. This kind of Wand just seemed to fit Legolas the most out of all the options, so there you are! :)
> 
> ****** The way I see it, Legolas is just happy to be able to talk to someone, and he believes full-heartedly in second chances. He's not one to judge someone for crimes they had not committed. He's not just naive, he's just kinder and more open-minded than some wizened and older adults who get stuck in the past and forget that Aragorn is a boy, and only that.
> 
> ******* Willow wood has uncommon healing powers, and owners of willow wood appear to have, usually unwarrented, insecurities. They normally choose those with great potential, and they enable the casting of non-verbal magic. Phoenix cores are the most picky and their allegiance is the most hard-won, but they are very loyal once you have it. This kind of wand just seemed right for Aragorn, though I was stuck between Willow and Hawthorn for the wood. :)


	3. The Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I'm back!

" _First Years! First Years over here!"_

The deep, booming voice drowned out the mindless chatter of the crowd, and Frodo easily spotted the giant man, who stood several heads above all the other students and had brown hair that flared around his head before trailing down his back in a large mohawk shape. The man wore only a pair of brown pants and a bunch of leather straps that criss-crossed across his chest and contained a bunch of pockets and satchels.

"First Years! Over  _here_!"

Hurriedly, Frodo grabbed Pippin and Merry's arms, who were attempting to put some gooey substance that he didn't even _want_  to know about in a random person's trunk, and dragged them towards the imposing figure. Sam followed like the good friend he was, ushering the two boys from behind.

(It was moments like these Frodo was especially glad to have a friend like Sam.)

They muddled through the crowds to stand in front of the giant man, and Frodo tilted his head back and waited for instructions. The man glanced down, his yellow eyes almost luminous in the light of the lantern, and nodded once in greeting. Then he went back to hollering at the top of his lungs.

Once all the first years were gathered together, the giant moved one muscular arm in a  _follow me_  gesture and started his way down to the lake, the large lantern swinging to and through as he walked.

The young students followed behind, looking much like a swarm of ducklings as they followed behind their mother.

The man led them to a bunch of sturdy wooden boats, and grumbled out the instructions.

"Each boat holds four people. No More. Don't put your fingers or things in the water, and don't be too loud. Any questions?"

The words were soft and deep, and not particularly bossy or menacing, but all the first years stayed silent nonetheless, terrified of the imposing man that towered above them all.

"Good. Now get into the boats."

They got into the boats.

Frodo started in shock as they started to move the moment everyone was seated, smoothly gliding into the water without so much as a word from the giant, who sat alone at the head of the group.

Then his attention was drawn away by Pippin and Merry, who were very purposely putting their hands in the water and swishing them back and forth.

He and Sam managed to wrangle the two mischievous boys back into sitting position, but he was distracted from scolding them when the school came into view.

The building was utterly ginormous, a castle standing tall and strong upon the hill. It's towers pierced the sky, and windows glowed with a soft golden light from within. It was truly a sight to behold, and Frodo tried to comprehend the fact that he was going to go to school in that very building.

He grinned excitedly at his companions, and they grinned back.

_They were going to Hogwarts!*_

* * *

They were standing in a closet.

A very large closet that was renovated to no longer look like a closet, and was, in fact, not a closet, and only felt like a closet, but a closet nonetheless. (At least, Frodo was calling it one.)

He was hungry, and a bit tired, and stuffed into a  _closet_  with a bunch of other tired and hungry students like tuna stuffed in a can. He felt he had the right to be a bit cranky.

They had been there for several minutes- waiting for the raven-haired man, who had introduced himself as Professor Elrond, to return- when suddenly a small commotion grabbed his attention.

Curious, Frodo abandoned his friends in order to get a closer look.

"So, your Aragorn King? My father told me you might be coming to school this year."

The words were angry, a little mocking, and just a bit snide. Frodo frowned, not only because the speaker was being rude, but because he was sure he had the name Aragorn King before…**

"Yes."

The word was soft, distant, as if the speaker wasn't even paying attention, as if he didn't really care. But there was glint of steel in the tone, and it ruined the effect.

At this point, Frodo managed to get the two figures in his sight. On one side there was a tall, well-built boy with rusty red hair. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched.

On the other side, stood another tall boy- though this one was more lean than muscular- and his dark hair hanged shaggily around his head. He was looking at the other straight in the eye, his own grey orbs strangely intense, and had an almost casual demeanor, as if the two were discussing the weather.

But his shoulders were tensed, as if expecting a blow, and Frodo highly doubted he felt as comfortable as he looked.

"Well I just want to tell-"

"Don't. We're not interested. C'mon Aragorn, let's go."

A new soft voice interrupted the ginger, one with a slight accent, and Frodo's gaze snapped to the owner. **

It was a blonde with oddly long hair, which was neatly braided behind his ears, and who was slightly shorter than the other two. He was incredibly pale, though not in a sickly manner, and his eyes were a piercing blue.

"Ooh! Looks like Aragorn's got himself a girlfri-"

The blonde's head snapped to the owner of the voice- a ginger-haired boy that was couple inches shorter than almost everyone else in the room, though not Frodo himself- and the icy orbs blazed with a simmering anger. ***

The very temperature of the room seemed to drop.

The redhead's mouth snapped shut with a very audible click.

The blonde turned his head back to the shaggy-haired boy- _Aragorn_ , Frodo reminded himself- with an obvious smirk upon his lips, and the boy's face flushed heavily enough to match his bright red hair.****

Shaggy-haired boy-  _Aragorn, Frodo, Aragorn!_ \- seemed to disagree with the scary-glaring boy though, as he resisted the blonde's gentle tugs on his arm and stayed put.

"No, Legolas, it's fine. What would you like to say, Boromir?"

Boromir- the first redhead, Frodo assumed- opened his mouth in order to tell just what he thought, but he was interrupted again by another voice.

"Alright, children, we're ready for you."

Professor Elrond was at the door.

His keen eyes were upon the argumentative boys, a single eyebrow raised in a reprimanding manner, and the four quickly bowed their heads, whether from shame or embarrassment Frodo didn't know.

Before he could find out, however, a hand was on his arm and tugging him away.

"There you are, Frodo! We were lookin for ya!"

"Yeah, Sam just about had a heart attack when he realized you were gone!"

After enduring Sam's tight hug and the ensuing scoldings, and after promising that he would tell where he was going next time, they trailed after the long snake of students that were following Professor Elrond to the dining hall.*****

When they entered the grand space, Frodo couldn't help but tilt his head back and stare at the nonexistent ceiling, where a sky filled with stars twinkled back at him. After several moments, he turned his gaze to the Teacher's table, and searched for Bilbo.

Bilbo caught his eye, giving him an excited smile as he walked further into the room.

He crowded into the walkway between the tables with everybody else and looked up expectantly at Professor Elrond, who stood at the front of the room next to an old flappy hat, a large scroll in hand.

It was because of this he jumped a bit when the hat started to sing.******

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Everyone cheered when the song was finished, and Frodo enthusiastically joined in.

Once everything had died down, Professor Elrond drew the attention to himself again.

"When I call your name, please come forwards. I shall put the Sorting Hat on your head, and it shall place you in your house, which will be either Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw."

As he spoke, he gestured to each of the tables in turn, showing the first years where the houses sat. Then he unrolled the scroll and smiled a small smile.

"Let's begin, shall we? Abbott, Hannah!"

A young girl edged her ways forward to the front of the line and sat down, peering nervously upwards as the brown cloth was lowered down upon her head. There was a few moments of silence, and then suddenly the hat's cloth mouth ripped open once more.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

It continued on like this, student after student, and he politely clapped for everyone as they got sorted. He had known what was going to happen- Bilbo had told him all about his own sorting- but he was still anxious for it to be over and done with.

"Baggins, Frodo!"

Frodo gave Sam, Merry, and Pippin his best encouraging smile and weaved his way through the crowd of students. Then he sat down on the stool and watched as the faces of his peers vanished behind folds of brown.

_Hmmm…_

Frodo didn't jump at the voice in his head, but it was a near thing. He had expected it, but there was something unsettling about having something poking around and speaking into his mind.

_Very brave, but not incredibly adventurous. Loyal, yes… definitely loyal, but practical too. You will get things done, won't you? Stubborn little fella, just like your Uncle Bilbo…_

He started, looking upwards even though the conversation was held inwards, and his eyes widened.

_You know my Uncle?_

_Hmmm, oh yes, of course I do, sorted him too. He did well. Intelligent? Yes, but not incredibly so, and not too terribly cunning… I guess I'll have to put you in_  HUFFLEPUFF!

Frodo beamed, clambering down the stool and walking towards the cheering table, accepting the many handshakes and Hello! 's and one-armed hugs sent his way. He waved at Bilbo, who sat beaming at the head table, and then looked to the hat once more, eager to see if his friends would join him.

After several other children, it was Merry's turn.

He walked up to the front with a confident hop in every step, and once he got there he gave a friendly salute to the mass of students- making them laugh- before his eyes disappeared behind the hat.

Several minutes of awkward silence passed before the tear in the cloth opened once more, releasing a single, almost exasperated, word.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Merry tore the hat off his head and skipped to the table, plopping down next to Frodo with a triumphant smile.

At his questioning glance, Merry smiled all the brighter, a truly evil glint in his eye.

"He thought I might do good in Ravenclaw, but I didn't want to cause it looks like they like homework and homework is boring, so I annoyed him until he let me come here instead!"

Frodo laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement, applauding as another student got sorted into Slytherin.

Trust his cousin to somehow manage to annoy an inanimate object.

But really, what else had he expected.?

* * *

"Durinson, Gimli!"

Gimli looked up from his wand, which he had been fiddling with to pass the time, and sauntered up to the stool. He wasn't nervous. Or anxious. Or worried. Or bloody terrified that he was about to be sorted  _and what if his house disappoints Kili and Fili and the rest of his famil-_

No, not any of those things.

( _Not at all…_ )

He sat down on the stool, and the hat had barely touched the top of his head when sound imploded from its cloth mouth.

"GRYFFINDOR!" *****

He grinned and put the hat back down on the chair, rushing to sit next to his cousins who were cheering ridiculously loud. Once he got there, they slapped him on the back proudly and introduced him to the surrounding students, who all greeted him enthusiastically.

His adrenaline and joy still running high, he spotted a golden head amidst the crowds left to be sorted.

He smirked, because he highly doubted that the boy who had embarrassed him could go anywhere except Slytherin, stuck up and pompous as he was.

_Beat that, Blondie..._

* * *

Sam nervously headed towards the hat, his steps faltering and hesitant.

Despite Pippin's encouraging thumbs up and the way Frodo and Merry were silently cheering him on, he still felt worried and anxious.

What if the hat couldn't sort him? What if he was just so weird and strange that the hat couldn't put him  _anywhere_!

He bit his lip.

Slowly he sat down, closing his eyes as he felt the first brush of fabric against his hair.

The hat didn't get any farther than that.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

His eye popped open, and a brilliant smile started to form upon his lips. Hurriedly, he took off the hat and gently placed it back onto the stool. Then he practically ran to the Hufflepuff table and sat next to Frodo, bypassing all the other offered seats without a second thought.

When he got there, Frodo gave him a hug and a small, teasing grin.

"Wasn't so bad after all, huh?"

Sam smiled back, though it was more relieved than anything else.

"No, it wasn't so bad after all…"

* * *

Boromir swiped sweat off his palms when he heard his name, and walked to the front of the line with as much confidence as possible.

(He was nervous, didn't mean he had to show it.)

He sat down on the stool, watching with a scowl as the hat covered his vision.

He didn't like being unable to see.

_Your a complicated one, aren't you?_

Boromir jumped and resisted the urge to tear the hat off and throw it to the ground. What on  _earth_  was that hat doing in his  _head?_

_Don't worry, don't worry, just having a little look. Hmmm, I see that you have no shortage of bravery. Not too bad when it comes to the brains either. Oh, ooh, but you're desperate. You would do almost anything to please your father… Hmm?_

As the hat rambled on and on, Boromir's scowl got darker and darker.

_Don't be getting all angry. I say it as I see it. Now where to put you..._

_Gryffindor._

_What?_

Boromir's lips twitched at the hat's confusion, but repeated the thought again, this time with more force.

 _Gryffindor_.  _Put_   _me in Gryffindor._

…

 _Please_.

The hat was silent for a few moments, and he started to fear that the hat would disregard his wish all together.

But then it spoke, and it made Boromir scowl once more.

_You could be great in Slytherin, you know… You have it all. The ambition. The power. The goals. You could go far, be the best, if you so wanted…_

For a moment the thoughts played through his head, and he wondered… But then he batted it all away and repeated himself once more, making sure to firmly emphasize every syllable.

 _Gry_ _ffin_ _dor_.

 _If that's what you want, who am I to disagree? I guess that puts you in_  GRYFFINDOR!

He slumped in relief and walked to the table amidst the cheers, nodding and smiling to his new housemates as he did so.

He could do this.  _He could do this_. He could.

Really.

_He could._

(If he could just ignore the voices that were whispering in his head…)

_No, you can't…_

* * *

Legolas smiled and applauded as another person got sorted, although he was confused as to why anyone was getting sorted at all.

In Beauxbatons, no one was separated, except by the year you entered, and even then sometimes different years of students were mingled to do an activity together.

The idea of separating everyone, making different teams within one school seemed oddly… wrong.

_Foreign._

Wouldn't it cause rifts between the different houses? Wouldn't it affect how everyone interacts with one another? Mess up the school's sense of... oneness?

He shrugged it off; Hogwarts was weird.*******

"Greenleaf, Legolas!"

He smiled brightly when he heard his name, skipping up to the front and waiting for the hat to be placed on his head like all the others.

The moment his eyes were covered by the brown material he tentatively pushed a thought around his head.

_Hello?_

_Hello_.

Legolas grinned, both because he was right about the hat talking mentally and because he was mentally talking to a hat, which was pretty awesome in his mind.

And weird.

But Hogwarts was weird in general so he'd let it go.

_Now that you're done with that, shall we get around to the sorting?_

The hat sounded rather amused… Odd. Legolas wondered why, but didn't bother to ask; he was far too eager to see how the hat would sort him.

 _Plenty of courage, and plenty of bravery, I see. Good heart, good mind. Very loyal, very, very curious. You just want to know about everything and anything, don't you? Hmm… I guess your thirst for knowledge must puts you in_  RAVENCLAW!

Legolas smiled, said a quiet thank you to the hat, and placed it down on the chair. Than he wondered to the Ravenclaws and beamed happily at them as they cheered. On his way there, he caught Aragorn's eye and gave him an encouraging look and a thumbs up, which the boy weakly returned.

Sitting down, Legolas wondered at his new friend's anxiety. It was strange how nervous he was for his sorting, because in the end it didn't matter, right? It was just like being sorted into different classes, right?

(They could still be friends,  _right?_ )

Yes, he was the grandson of some evil man or another- Aragorn had been very sure to point this out to him when the blonde had called themselves friends, as if expecting him to suddenly change his mind at the information- but that didn't really matter to Legolas. It wasn't as if Aragorn had done those crimes himself, he was just unfortunate enough in being related to him.

At least, that was how he saw it.

Would the rest of the students see it the same way?

He scanned the faces of his fellow peers, trying to discern what made them tick, but had no such luck.

_He didn't know._

Legolas sighed, turning his eyes to the front as another person got sorted into Ravenclaw and clapping along with the rest of his housemates as the girl joined them, happy for a new possible friend but still confused on the way the school worked.

He sighed again.

Hogwarts was weird.

* * *

When Aragorn's name was called, the hall went silent.

Internally, he was cringing and resisting the urge to run and hide, but he tried to look brave and confident on the outside, if only to make his friend and his family feel reassured. (Whether or not he succeeded was another matter entirely.)

He made his way through the other first-years, who quickly cleared a path for him, and walked to the front. He felt all the eyes needling into his skin, but he refused to look at them. Refused to give them the satisfaction.

And then the whispers started. They were quiet at first, but then they got louder and louder. Loud enough that he could hear some of the words.

"Aragorn King? Like the grandson of Isildur?"

"Why'd they even let him in, isn't he dangerous?"

"He's a traitor. They need to get rid of him right now. Don't they know what Isildur did?"

He blocked out most of it, though, because he didn't really want to hear.

By the time he got to the front, he was near tears-  _He had been right, he had been right_ all along _, and he shouldn't have even come because it was such a_ stupid _idea, and why was he such an_ idiot _and how did he ever think that this year could even be_ remotely _okay?_ \- but he wouldn't let them fall, not a single one, because that would make him weak.  _Pathetic_.

The whispers continued on.

Suddenly, there was a clear ringing through the hall, and the hushed words went silent. Aragorn looked up, and he spotted the headmaster of the school-  _Gandalf_ , he reminded himself- put down his spoon, which he had been gently knocking against his crystal goblet.

The wizard's face was set into a frown, and anger seemed to radiate off him in pulsing waves. Aragorn's face fell, because this was it, this was where the man was going to stand up and announce to the whole school that he was unwelcome here, that he needed to leave  _right_   _now_  because Hogwarts didn't harbor traitors and evil people like him.

Instead, the wizened man met his eyes and gave him a wink, a small almost-there smile upon his face.

He didn't know why, but it made him feel just a bit better.

There was still complete silence, and it wasn't much better than the whisperings, but he would take what was given.

He sat down heavily on the chair, opting not to look at the sea of faces in front of him but instead at his father, who gave his own encouraging smile- His eyebrows were furrowed, though, which meant he was upset. Aragorn wondered why...- before gently placing the hat upon the child's head.

_Hmmm, Isildur's heir, huh? The question now is, however, where should I put you…_

Aragorn didn't know why he did it. Why the sudden desperate urge overwhelmed him, but there it was. He could not go into Slytherin. He  _couldn't_. He  _wouldn't_  go there, not like his grandfather. He needed as much distance between himself and his Isildur as possible.

Perhaps he should have said Ravenclaw, where his brothers were, where his adoptive father was Head of the House, where Legolas was. (The blonde seemed to be the only non-related person in the whole wide world who didn't care at all who he was related to.)

But he didn't. He  _didn't_.

Instead he thought different words, ones that would prove everyone wrong. All of Elrond's guest who stared at him with disbelief and anger, all the students who judged him without knowing him, Boromir, who tried to bully him just because of who he was related to.

He would prove them  _all_  wrong.

_Gryffindor. Put me in Gryffindor._

Because Gryffindor and Slytherin were opposites, right? They didn't get along. They were the difference between one for all and all for one. They were enemies. And Aragorn could be an enemy of Slytherin. Could be an enemy of his grandfather.

(He would wonder, later, if this was what his father has thought when he had the hat upon his head. He would wonder if Arathorn had spontaneously decided to be Gryffindor as well. He would wonder if he had done his blood-father proud.)

The hat stayed silent for several long seconds which seemed to stretch for several years. Aragorn feared that he would be ignored, but then the voice spoke in his mind once more.

_Very well, then. If you're sure._

_I am._

"GRYFFINDOR!"

There was no cheers greeting Aragorn when he pulled the hat off, only a polite smattering of quiet applause. Except for Legolas and his family, who cheered with all the enthusiasm given for everyone else, despite the weird looks they received for it.

He made sure to flash them a smile.

He quietly sat down at the table, pretending not to notice his blatant stares sent his way. And then he turned to the front, biting his lip in quiet determination not to break out crying.

(Whether crying implied yelling in frustration or crying tears he didn't know.)

Aragorn waited and waited, and eventually some kid named Peregrin Took drew the attention off himself when he cartwheeled up to the front and the gave an exaggerated bow once he got there. He got sorted into Hufflepuff, and Aragorn made sure to cheer extra loud for him.

And later, as he ate in a silent bubble- everyone at the table seemed determined not to talk to him- he caught Gandalf's eye once more.

The man gave another almost-there smile, and this time, Aragorn attempted to smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gods. I have so many notes.
> 
> * Who can guess who the man was?
> 
> ** Don't be mad at Boromir. Just... Don't. He's a kid whose been raised to hate Islidur, and everything that has to do with him. And perhaps Boromir should have been more open minded, but it's also hard to forget a whole childhood's worth of hate.
> 
> *** Legolas has inherited his Ada's glare... :)
> 
> **** And so Gimli and Legolas' reign of constant fighting has begun! (Also, Gimli keeps getting very little attention. I'm sorry Gimli!)
> 
> *****Sam would be the worst worrywart/mother-hen in the history of worrywarts/mother-hens
> 
> ****** I took this directly from the book, cause I'm not original or creative at all and I deserve no credit for it. The only reason I put it in at all is cause it always annoys me when the singing was left out in other fanfics I've read and I didn't want to be hypocritical.
> 
> ******* As a person with personal experience, it can be really weird finding yourself in a completely new culture. Don't worry though, Legolas will adjust soon enough...
> 
> That was a lot. Sorry...
> 
> To SelarahMorgan and Andy the willow tree, who reviewed the last chapter, THANK YOU! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!
> 
> Alrighty, now for the important stuff: Why did I choose the houses that I chose? Here's your info:
> 
> The hobbits: Hobbits are basically Hufflepuffs, guys. They're practical, they're loyal, they value hard work and good friends. (They are highly underestimated...) I did briefly consider having Merry and/or Frodo in Ravenclaw, especially Merry, but in the end they all went into Hufflepuff because I thought it fit their personalities better.
> 
> Boromir: I read a headcanon once that to get into Gryffindor you had to ask, or want it or something. Or that the Sorting Hat would put you somewhere if you asked for it. I don't know the specifics, but it was along those lines. This sort of shows up here, with Boromir. Because he is brave and courageous, he does seek glory for himself and his companions. And maybe the adult Boromir would go into Slytherin, because he would do anything to complete his goal in saving Gondor, but this is a young kid who is not corrupted by the Ring and is not in such a desperate situation. And he asked, and so now he's in Gryffindor.
> 
> Aragorn: Same idea as Boromir, though I honestly think that he could go into Ravenclaw too. He's certainly intelligent enough. But again, he asked, and so he went.
> 
> Legolas: In this fic, I'm going to put almost all elves in Ravenclaw. Because in Ravenclaw, your smart. You think out your moves before you act. Your not rash and burning in a brilliant flash, but a slow and steady light. You see the big picture of things. (At least, that's my take on it) That idea just really seems to match elves for me. The reason Legolas is in Ravenclaw though, is cause he's curious. Soo very curious. He want's to know about everything and anything, just like the hat said, because he's pretty much been locked up for his entire life. That insatible thirst for knowledge just screams RAVENCLAW!
> 
> Gimli: In my opinion, Gimli is like the definition of Gryfindoorness. He's brave and brash and ready to fight before he's ready to think. He's got a good heart and a proud character, and he's just very Gryfindoor to me...
> 
> To all you people who think I dislike Slytherin or think their evil, I will say this: LIES! Slytherin is cool in my mind, and I totally respect the house. I just don't think that any of the Nine really fit there...
> 
> None of them are super cunning, or incredibly ambitious, and even Boromir, who is most likely to be in Slytherin, who will sacrifice everything for his goals, had goals that were for a majority, not just himself. They just didn't fit right for me, and so this is how they worked out. Also, these characters are going to be a little different from the ones we love and know, cause they grew up different and live a different life.
> 
> Disagree with my choices? Want me to go more in depth about my decisions? Sent me a review and I'll be happy to listen to your opinions or tell you about mine. :)


	4. Of Dreaded Eyebrows and New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I don't have to mention this, but I will anyway, just in case. This chapter contains a minor injury, but it's very vaguely described and there's no blood. :)

Pippin dashed through the maze of hallways and stairs as fast as he could, the reassuring thump of Merry' feet sounding behind him.

They were late. _Again_.

They swerved around one last corner and Pippin couldn't help but give a shout of triumph when he spotted the transfiguration classroom. They had finally found the right place, after the dozens of misdirections and navigation mistakes. Flashing a smile Merry's way, he ran the last few feet and burst through the doors, his friend right behind him.

At their dramatic entrance, forty heads swiveled around to have a look before turning back to their desks, muffled chuckles escaping closed lips.

Pippin probably would have laughed at the perfect unison, but he was too busy staring at the front of the classroom, where certain doom lay.

Professor Elrond raised an eyebrow, somehow making the simple action the most terror-inspiring thing in the entire universe.

Pippin gulped, cringing slightly.

Merry was sighing next to him, and then his hand was grabbed and he was being dragged unwillingly forward. The younger scowled, tossing a glare at the back of the elder's head, which went unnoticed.

Pippin shrugged; he tried.

Nervously, the two youths came to a stop in front of the professor.

"Late again, Mr. Brandybuck, ?

Pippin offered a sheepish smile, and Merry attempted to make a reasonable excuse.

"Sorry sir, we, uh, got lost again…"

It  _was_  true, they  _had_  gotten lost on their way to the classroom, but it wasn't the  _complete_  truth. They may or may not have woken up late as well…

But Professor Elrond didn't need to know that.

The wizard was raising an eyebrow again, and Pippin resisted the urge to either cower or run out of the room. The rest of the students had broken down into laughter once more, but he couldn't bring himself to care, because the _eyebrow_.

 _The eyebrow was freaking terrifying_ _._ *

Pippin managed to speak up, his voice rather higher than he was used to.

"The staircases  _move_ , sir, it's hard to know how to get around!"

For a few moments more the transfiguration teacher stayed silent, watching as the two young pupils in front of him tried and failed to meet his eyes, but then he sighed.

"I trust you will not get lost finding your seats?

Pippin shook his head, feeling Merry mimic his actions as he did so. Then they both dashed to the empty desks at the front of the room.

Elrond sighed, shaking his head and mumbling about how it had already been _three weeks_ , and then flicked his wand at the levitating chalk, which started writing on the board once more.

Pippin and Merry traded grins; they were safe from getting in trouble.

At least, for now…

* * *

Boromir couldn't help but chuckle when the two Hufflepuffs were late again. It was as if those two  _wanted_ to get in trouble with Professor Elrond, who appeared to be more and more exasperated after every tardie.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the said Hufflepuffs nudged him on the shoulder.

He shot his fellow first year-  _Pippin, he was pretty sure his name was Pippin_ \- a questioning glance.

The curly-haired boy offered a sheepish grin, and- making sure that Elrond was not paying attention- quietly whispered into his ear.

"Sorry for botherin' ya, but me and Merry don't have the notes. Can we copy yours?

Boromir saw no harm in it, and so he passed his parchment to the two trouble makers, nodding silently as he did so.

Pippin flashed him a grin, before hurriedly copying down the words, his partner in crime doing the same next to him.

After a few minutes, his parchment was handed back with a quiet yet enthusiastic pair of, _Thank you_ 's and grateful smiles, and Boromir was forced to quickly write down the new notes on the board before they were erased.

But not before he gave the boys his own grin, a quiet, _Your welcome_ , and a layout for a new friendship that would last for years to come.

( _He hoped._ )

* * *

By the time Potions began, the lingering happiness Boromir had felt in Transfiguration class had worn off.

The reason for his rapidly declining mood was sitting next to him, studiously taking notes and acting for all the world that he was an utterly normal boy.

But Boromir knew better. He  _knew_. This boy was the descendant of one of the worst men in the world. His grandfather had betrayed everyone.  _Everyone_. This boy's grandfather had destroyed lives, killed thousands, was evil. This boy's grandfather was the reason his father was so _bitter_.

And this boy was probably just like his grandfather, a rotten egg. Someone trying to gain your trust just so he can stab you in he back and rip your life to shreds.

(No matter that he was quoting his father, no matter that Boromir's father was an angry old man who was normally wrong about such things. For surely,  _surely_ , his father was right about _this_ _._...)

Boromir shot another glare at Aragorn, but the other boy ignored it yet again.

He humphed; the least the boy could do was properly respond to his glares.

They were, after all, assigned to the same project.

(Deep down-  _deep, deep_ , deep  _down_ \- he knew that it wasn't Aragorn's fault that they were partners. That it was Professor Dwalin's. But he was cranky, and so his mind somehow made  _everything_  the other boy's doing.)

Suddenly, there was a whir of motion as students went to gather ingredients and take out cauldrons and scales. The loud booming voice of Professor Dwalin- which had somehow become background noise as Boromir fumed- had stopped, and he realized that he had no idea what potion they were even making.

Boromir scowled, glancing down at his empty paper and then back up to the professor, who was watching the children absentmindedly while he chopped off pieces of apple and popped them in his mouth with a very long, sharp knife.

The potion master's tattooed skull glinted in the soft light of the candles, and his eyes met Boromir's.

The ginger ducked his head, his cheeks flushing at being caught, and tried to remember the barely heard instructions. He needed to do this right; he was already falling behind in potions and he didn't want _another_  failed attempt.

"Boil Cure."

Boromir started, breaking his angry staring contest with the parchment and looking up.

Aragorn King looked back, a slightly resigned expression on his face.

"Boil Cure, that's the potion were assigned to make."

He blinked once, but then he scowled.

"I knew that."

(He didn't.)

Aragorn gave him a look, one that clearly said _I don't believe you_ , but kept silent, instead sliding his notes over so that the redhead could see the neatly written instructions.

"I'll get the ingredients, and you can chop them. Is that okay?"

Mutely, Boromir nodded.

Aragorn sent something akin to a smile his way.

"Should we use your scales? Or mine?"

He flushed, embarrassed. The other boy was surely doing this just to humiliate him, to make fun of him. But still, it seemed that the other knew what he was doing, and he needed all the help he could get, and so he managed to ground out an answer.

"Yours. Mine are a little broken…"

Aragorn nodded, taking the words into stride and not giving a single comment, simply taking out the tool and placing it onto the counter.

"Okay, We'll use your cauldron though, if you don't mind, mine's still stinks from that explosion. The smell won't go away."

Boromir smiled, because that had been a good day. Some student- he couldn't remember the name- had placed a jinx on Aragorn's pot, causing the whole thing to explode and a rancid stench to fill the room. Professor Dwalin had scolded Aragorn in front of the entire class, and everyone had gotten a good laugh back in the common room. The best part was that the victim didn't even know that his cauldron had been jinxed!

But then he looked at the other boy's face, and realized there was something accusing and hurt in those grey eyes, and the smile dropped off of his face.

Perhaps Aragorn had known after all…

And if that was the case, Boromir honestly didn't know what to feel, because that would mean that Aragorn had kept quiet about the blatant cruelty, even though he had nothing to lose by telling.

He didn't bother trying to sort out his suddenly raging thoughts though. Instead, the ginger nodded and started to take out his large black cauldron.

By the time he had everything sorted, Aragorn was back with all the ingredients. They worked silently together, with only the occasional interruption from the other boy when he corrected Boromir on a mistake.

(He did not correct Boromir on his biggest mistake though, the one where he had let someone play a cruel joke on a fellow house member and simply stood back and  _ _laughed_._)

When time was up, their potion was spewing pink smoke that rose steadily out of the pot. Both of them were smiling triumphantly and Aragorn offered to carry the phial of potion up to the front and then help him clean up once he returned. He had nodded absentmindedly-  _unthinkingly_ \- and had gotten to work.**

He had honestly not expected a leg to come out into the aisle and trip the other boy, causing Aragorn to fall down heavily and the boiling hot potion to splatter all over him.

The boy hissed in pain, immediately attempting to swipe off the liquid from his bare arms. Professor Dwalin leapt _over_  his desk and was helping Aragorn up, guiding him over to a sink where he could run the burnt skin under cold water and help soothe the pain.

The other children were muffling chortles at the other's predicament- _Because he deserved it. Because he wasn't a boy, not really, but a villain. Because it was fine, for they were beating up someone evil, they were saving the day..._ \- and perhaps Boromir would have joined them if he had not learned what he had learned.

Already, he could hear Aragorn's quiet words- insisting that it was an accident and that he was just terribly clumsy- and he felt sick.***

Because even if this was all just a ploy to make people trust him or pity him or all that, Boromir had seen the suppressed tears in the grey eyes. Whether it was from the pain or the humiliation or the hurt at being treated in such an inhumane way he didn't know, but the ginger suspected that it was a bit of everything.

And what kind of Gryffindor was he, if he let a fellow Gryffindor down in such a way? What kind of Gryffindor was he, if he'd let others be cruel to someone and just laugh at it?  _What kind of Gryffindor was he_ , if he turned his back on those who needed his help and left them to suffer all alone?

A quiet voice answered inside of his head, soft and almost not there at all.

_No kind of Gryffindor at all._

Professor Dwalin had wrapped up the injuries- his large, calloused, scarred hands surprisingly gentle- and was gruffly giving Aragorn instructions to visit the healing ward after class. The boy nodded, his hair hiding his bowed head, and started back to the desk, seemingly unaware of the quiet chuckles and insults that followed him.

(The ginger knew that he was really just ignoring them, though. He knew.)

Slowly, using his newly bandaged hands, Aragorn filled a second phial.

He blinked, realizing that they hadn't actually turned in their potion yet, and then frowned, because he knew what was going to happen.

They were going to trip him again, and again Aragorn would say that he was just clumsy, and again everyone was going to mock him, and again and again and again….

It was then Boromir came to a decision.

Gently, he reached out and touched the other boy on the shoulder. Aragorn started, looking up at Boromir with wide eyes, and he was suddenly painfully reminded of his brother.

"Here, uh, let me take that. I'll bring it up to the front."

_I'm sorry._

Aragorn stared at him, long and hard. His eyes were like smoldering ashes, bright and intense, but Boromir met them evenly.

He wouldn't be a traitor, not anymore. Not to his house, not to his housemates, and not to Aragorn King.

Because he deserved a chance. The grey-eyed boy deserved _a chance_ , at the very least, and Boromir had every intention of giving him one.

Finally, after what seemed an age, the phial of potion was handed over. He took it gingerly, trying for a smile.

Aragorn gave a small smile back.

"Alright... thank you."

_I forgive you._

"It's no problem, really."

With that, Boromir walked up to the front. There was no laughter or attempted trippings, simply wide-eyed expressions of confusion.

He ignored them.

When he got to the desk he placed the phial in front of the Potion's Master, as was instructed, but before he could leave again, Professor Dwalin spoke up, his thick eyebrows furrowed.

"Take care of your friend, will ya? He looks like he needs it."

Boromir opened his mouth to say that Aragorn King was  _not_ his friend, that Aragorn King never was and never  _would be_  his friend, but then his jaw snapped shut. Instead, he nodded and walked back to his table in order to finish cleaning up.

And after class, instead of wondering off with all the other students, he jogged after Aragorn and started walking besides him.

"What are you doing?"

The other boy was looking at him now, his eyebrow raised in a way that looked eerily similar to Professor Elrond.

He tried for another smile, and was pleased that this one came much more easily than the last.

"I was wondering if I could walk with you to the Healing Ward? To keep ya company?"

_Friends?_

There was a moment of silence, the only sound being their quiet footsteps and the muffled chatter of the other students. But then Aragorn glanced at Boromir, a smile of his own playing on his lips.

"Sure."

_Friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * EVERYONE RUN FOR THEIR LIVES! THE EYEBROW OF DOOM IS UPON US! I'm sorry, I couldn't resist... :)
> 
> ** Boil Cure Potion, when made correctly, makes pink smoke.
> 
> *** Why was Aragorn not telling about the bullying? Because he wants to fit in. He wants to be treated fairly, yes, but what could he do? If he told on them then everyone would dislike him even more for getting them into trouble. Should he have told? Probably. But he didn't. It can be hard to know, sometimes, what to do in these kind of situations...


	5. And So They Watched In Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * No, I am not going to favor Legolas and make him always win, I just think that on a broomstick, Legolas is going to be fast, fast and quick and with an excellent aim, while Gimli is steady and strong and hard to knock over and a good person to carry the ball across the field. You'll see what happens...
> 
> ** One does not simply walk into Mordor... HOGWARTS STYLE!
> 
> *** Legolas may or may not be super protective over his first friend... And who can blame him? Aragorn has a habit of getting into trouble...
> 
> **** I kidnapped Gollum's riddle, sorry

"ALRIGHT LADDIES! WHO'S READY FOR SOME FLYIN'!"

Gimli grinned when he heard Mr. Ironfoot's loud booming voice.

Dain Ironfoot was chortling merrily at the rest of the students reaction, his heavy red braids swinging around as he did so. Gimli had been one of the few students not to jump at the sudden appearance of the man, and he had to resist the urge to laugh along.

Everything the man did was loud and booming. He demanded the attention of whatever room he entered, and he made good use of it. Currently, he had the eyes of many students staring at him, and he offered them a full-tooth grin.

Gimli grinned back.

"WELL!? WHAT ARE YOU WAITIN' FOR!? STEP UP TO YOUR BROOMS!"

He did so, impatiently. He knew that a lot of the students weren't so amazing at riding broomsticks, but he had already mastered the skill long ago. He honestly didn't believe that he needed to sit through the dreary first year lesson.

But then again, he didn't mind _too_ bad if it meant he got to show up a certain blonde.

Said blonde was looking silently on at their instructor, looking almost as bored as Gimli felt.

But not for long, not if he had anything to say about it.

Glancing around, he noticed that everyone had gone silent and was listening to , and so he imitated him and drew his attention to the belted instructions, which all turned out to be very basic skills, such as  _getting on your broom._

And really, who _didn't_ know how to do that?

Apparently, lots of people, and so Gimli offered them advice where he could, pointing out what they could possibly do to make their broom more responsive. He was met by grateful smiles by most, a few questions from others, and a few grumbling frowns by a select few.

Well, he couldn't please everyone.

After several minutes, he realized that the blonde had yet to mount his broom, and was turning away from his friend Aragorn. (Who Gimli  _still_ didn't know how to feel about; Isildur was the cause of much loss for his family.)

And so he sauntered up to the Ravenclaw and  _kindly_  offered his help.

(By kindly, he meant slightly mocking and rude, but it serves the blonde right for making a fool of a Durinson. No one did that and got away with it.  _No one_ _._ )

"Oi! Blondie! Having broom troubles!? Need a bit of help!?"

The taller gave him a cold look, face set in stone.

"No thank you; I can manage  _quite_  fine on my own."

With that, the Ravenclaw hopped onto his own broom and- with perfect stance- hovered a few feet into the air, offering an overly-sweet smile to Gimli once he was high enough.

"Of course, I would  _gladly_  help you if you are in need of assistance."

Gimli scowled.

The blonde grinned and shot higher into the air.

Growling under his breath, he grabbed his own broomstick and shot into the air after him.

No pesky pompous jerk would get the better of Gimli Durinson! Not if  _he_ had anything to say about it!

* * *

Half an hour later, everyone was more or less in the air, tentatively testing out the new freedoms flight could offer.

Except for Gimli and the blonde of course, they were far too busy trying to outshine each other.

(The blonde was good, he would admit that, but not as good as Gimli, not a chance!)

Dain Ironfoot watched from the ground, occasionally bellowing out instructions or advice whenever he saw a student make a mistake. He practically ignored the two rivals, only glancing at them from the corner of his eye every once in awhile.

Right after Gimli managed to do a triple roll on his broom, and right before the Ravenclaw could fail at doing something more awesome, the flying instructor called for all brooms to land so that he could explain the next activity.

The red-bearded man was going to throw balls at them. That was what Gimli got from the long overexaggerated explanation; the teacher was going to throw balls at them, fast and hard, and they were going to have to catch them.

Which, all things considered, could have been worse…

The rounds went fast; Mr. Ironfoot would chuck roughly fifty balls at the chosen victim and shout out random tidbits as he did so, being more confusing than helpful.

Before Gimli knew it, it was the Blonde's turn.

The Ravenclaw flew into the air and stayed utterly still, blue eyes fixed on the teacher the same way a hawk would watch it's prey.

And then the balls came.

It was a rapid blur of motion, far faster than the prior speeds of throwing; it appeared as if the elder wizard had taken more notice of their little excursions than Gimli had thought.

But the blonde… the blonde was catching them.

Yes, there were a few fumbled balls, but for the most part… for the most part the blonde was catching them. The professor threw them high and low and off in random directions, but the Ravenclaw somehow managed to maneuver himself quickly enough so that he was able to grab the balls out of the air.

Even Gimli could admit that his reflexes must have been truly  _amazing_  to manage such a feat.

And then it was over and the blonde was back on the ground, panting slightly but not a hair out of place, and Aragorn- the traitor- was giving him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. The Ravenclaws were cheering at the excellent show, and more than a few were asking questions on his tactics and strategies.

Somehow, despite the attention and the dozen other people he was talking too, the blonde manages to steal away the time to approach Gimli, eyes soaring with adrenaline and a smile that oh-so-clearly said one thing.

_Beat that!_

"Forty-three."

He blinked at the word.

"What?"

The blonde smiled again, although this one was slightly more condescending, and gestured to the dozens of balls.

"I caught forty-three, how well do you think  _you'll_  do?"

Gimli scowled, staring up at the taller boy with venom in his eyes.

"Better than you, that's for sure!"

Then he marched right up to Dain Ironfoot and volunteered.

And he did well, very well, especially in comparison to most of the other first years. A score of thirty-four balls was something to be proud of.

 _But it wasn't good enough_ , and so Gimli felt no pride.

And later, after the lessons were over and everyone was heading back to their dormitories, the blonde managed to catch his eye.

He smiled, small and teasing and playful, but Gimli knew it for what it was.

A challenge.

 _And it was_  so  _on.*_

* * *

Boromir looked down at his brother's letter once more, trying to draw inspiration from the neatly written- much more neat than his own untidy scrawl- words that were displayed across the scroll.

As promised, Boromir had kept up an avid correspondence with his younger sibling, always making sure to respond to Faramir's letters as soon as possible. The only problem was, however, the mounting schoolwork made his letter-writing time rather scarce and hard to come by.

Which was why he found himself attempting to write a coherent letter in the late into the night.

Tiredly, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear up his blurry vision, and went back to staring at the blank scroll.

There was no sudden flashes of inspiration or dazzling leaps of creativity, only an endless sea of cream colored parchment…

He jolted to awareness a minute later, only realizing he had fallen asleep when his head slipped off his hand and started him awake.

Perhaps… perhaps he should go to bed; he was no use to his brother if he couldn't even write properly.

But then the image of Faramir, alone and cold and sad, patiently waiting for his big brother to send a letter his way because he promised, flashed through his head, and Boromir could no longer bring himself to just head up to bed; Faramir was waiting for him, and he had made a promise.

(One does not simply break their promises, especially those made to younger siblings.)

(It is folly.)**

And so he stretched and yawned and went back to work.

Hours later, he woke up to someone lightly patting his shoulder, a soft voice, still scratchy from sleep, filtering through his ears.

"Boromir? Hey, Boromir, what are you even doing down here? Boromir? Wake up!"

When he at last managed to open his eyes, he realized that his candle and fluttered down to barely-there flame, and that his letter was finished, even if the writing was far more messy than usual.

Through the dim light, he was also able to see the outline of a dark figure standing next to him, one that had become familiar to him over the last few weeks.

"Aragorn?"

There was a glint of white as the brunette grinned in triumph, but the words that came next were still just as quiet.

"Yeah, its me. Mind telling me what you're doing out of bed?"

His friend was teasing him now, he could tell.

Not that he would let Aragorn know that.

"Ah, shut up… I just felt like getting some extra work done!"

It  _was_  true… sort of.

"You fell asleep while writing to your brother again, didn't you?"

_Yes._

"...No."

"Mhmmm…"

"You be quiet, Aragorn, or you won't like what's comin' to yah!"

Aragorn was muffling laughter now, hysterical at his attempt of an intimidating glare. Ah, but the brunette never laughed enough anyways, so Boromir would let him get away with it.

But not without a fight.

"That's it!"

There whispered conversation came to an end as the redhead jumped from his seat and made a grab for the other, bringing the brunette into a light-hearted noogie.

"Anything to say now, smartmouth?"

"Yes; this will hurt."

With that, Aragorn stomped his foot down Boromir's toe, causing him to release a-  _very manly_ \- yelp, and escaped from his hold, dancing out of the ginger's reach.

The two boys roughhoused- quietly as possible, for it  _was_  the middle of the night- until Aragorn suddenly came to a stop, his eyes fixed on the window.

"Aragorn?"

The brunette stayed silent, moving to stare through the glass panes without a word. He followed, trying to glimpse what the other had seen.

"Aragorn? What's wrong?"

After several more moments of silence, his fellow Gryffindor turned to him.

"Do you them?"

"See  _what_? Honestly, Aragorn, sometimes you make no sen-"

He was interrupted by his friend's quiet voice.

"There are lights. In the forest;  _look_."

And so he did.

It was hard to spot, at first, but he eventually managed to see the floating lights that swirled around the edge of the forest. They were of a soft green hue, and the bobbed up and down in strange movements, occasionally vanishing for a few moments before reappearing in a new location.

Boromir squinted, because he could almost see the vague outlines of shapes connected to the floating lights, dark forms of blackness which seemed gaping holes in the fabric of the universe.

They looked at each other, eyes wide.

"Do you think we should investigate?"

Aragorn looked appalled at the suggestion, leaning away from him with an incredulous look on his face.

"What!? No! Are you crazy? If we go out after dark and get caught…"

"Aw, come on, we won't get caught!"

"But-"

"Please?"

The brunette looked at him, his anxious features transforming into those of resignation. Boromir grinned; he knew he had won. (The other boy was far too curious for his own good.)

"Fine, with one condition."

He was getting a little impatient, but he managed the appropriate response anyways.

"Yes?"

"Legolas is coming with us."

"What!? You mean the Ravenclaw?"

Boromir wasn't so sure about the long-haired blonde that Aragorn hanged out with so much. Yes, the other was nice enough, but whenever the redhead came and joined them Legolas would give him a warning look, as if to say:  _you hurt my friend, I hurt you_. ***

The worse part was that the glare was legitimately terrifying, and a reminder that while he had convinced Aragorn he wanted to be friends and had put aside his prejudices, he had yet to convince Legolas.

And then there was the fact that Legolas was a Ravenclaw, and Ravenclaws were always sticklers for rules.

And so, it was with best intentions in mind that he put his hand on his friend's shoulder and spoke his mind.

"Umm, you sure? What if he doesn't want to go to the Forbidden Forest? What if he tells on us?"

To his surprise, Aragorn simply snorted in response and then started laughing; Boromir was not amused.

"Something funny?"

The brunette looked up, mirth in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just, Legolas has probably been into the Forbidden Forest about a dozen times already."

"What!?"

Aragorn laughed once more at his expression, but quickly explained.

"You know the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Raggy- what was it again?"

"Professor Radagast?"

"Yeah, him. Anyways, Professor Radagast was going on about all the different creatures in the in the woods and Legolas was super excited about it and I'm pretty sure he keeps sneaking out in the middle of the night to find talking trees or something."

"Oh…"

And that was the only answer he could really give.

As they stepped out of the Gryffindor Common Room, Aragorn suddenly came to a stop. Then, he turned on the redhead and looked him straight in the eye, his face grave.

"Boromir, if we get caught, I'm going to kill you."

And then he continued on without a word.

And so that was how Boromir found himself scurrying through the darkened hallways of the Hogwarts castle in the middle of the night, ducking into random empty classrooms and small nooks and crannies whenever the sound of footsteps grew too near.

Eventually, after climbing up the large spiral staircase for what felt like forever, they arrived at the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room. There was no doorknob, no keyhole, and no obvious entrance, only a single bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Boromir glanced at Aragorn, his eyebrows raised.

"How do we get in?"

The brunette shot him a sideways glance and reached out to the knocker.

"We knock."

The eagle came to life, and a new voice entered their conversation, causing him to jump a little in response.

_"What has roots as nobody sees,_

_Is taller than trees Up, up, up it goes,_

_And yet never grows?_

Boromir stared at the door, mouth gaping in shock, before turning on Aragorn, shooting distrustful glances to the now silent eagle.

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"It's a riddle. If you solve it, you can get in."

Boromir frowned.

"And if you don't?"

"Then you're stuck outside until someone lets you in…"

Boromir frowned harder.

"How do you know so much about Ravenclaw anyways?

"Legolas told me, now be quiet; I'm trying to think."

He wisely shut up, listening in silence as Aragorn quietly asked to hear the riddle again, and when Aragorn eventually seemed to come to a realization and proclaim the answer.

"A mountain? Is the answer a mountain?"

There was no response, only the door swinging open. Boromir gave his companion a high five, both cringing as the loud sound echoed through the corridors. But no one came, and so they entered the tower on tiptoe, sneaking in as criminals would in the deep dark night

Locating the blonde was easy enough, as was explaining their situation, but Boromir was surprised on just how readily their new companion silently jumped out of bed, changed clothes, and swept his hair back into a tight braid. But it was done in eerily sufficient ease, and before he knew it the blonde was leading them through a labyrinth of hallways to a portrait of large snowy mountains. Underneath the portrait was a gold-plaited sign, claiming the image a drawing of somewhere called Caradhras.

He was about to ask why Legolas had led them there when the blonde reached out with one pale finger and traced out an almost invisible path through the mountains. Suddenly, the softly falling snow in the image became a thick blizzard, and Boromir found himself shivering from the howling wind that began to batter the three students around.

And then there was silence, and all that remained from the freak storm was a mysterious chill that wasn't there before.

And instead of a mountain pass, there was a wall of white.

"C'mon!"

With that simple word, the blonde placed a hand on the painting and started to push through, the blank portrait seemingly melting away from his gentle touch.

And before the two Gryffindors knew it, Legolas had vanished from sight.

He shot a look at Aragorn- wondering just how the blonde had managed to find such a thing in the first place- but the brunette simply shrugged, apparently used to his friend's weirdness, and stepped into the painting as well.

Boromir was left behind in the hallway, alone and seriously reconsidering his decisions in life.

But, eventually, he too scrambled into the blank image, shivering as the cold assaulted him once more, and entered the gloomy passageway that waited beyond.

Behind him, the blizzard whirled across the portrait once more, leaving behind nothing but a still portrait of huge towering mountains and softly falling snow.

* * *

Boromir tried to get the blonde to open up on just how he had found the secret passage way, and -more importantly- if there were any more, but Legolas had this way of talking that made it near possible for him to complete his goal.

He'd start out by asking his question, his mind focused on prying out an answer, and things always seemed to be going well.

And then he would blink and somehow find himself discussing his views on Muggles or how his father sometimes snored so loud he could hear it through the wall, never knowing how he came to be talking about such a topic in the first place.

_… Stupid Ravenclaws._

Aragorn was of no help at all, simply laughing at Boromirs bewildered state whenever he realized that he had derailed from his goal once more, completely ignoring the annoyed glares sent his way.

But then the brunette hanged back a little and walked next to him, quietly explaining that Legolas was never really open about himself ever, and that he should feel privileged that the blonde showed him one of his secret hidey holes in the first place. That it showed some real trust from a person raised not to trust  _anyone_ , and he felt a little bit better.

They continued trudging through the forest, their wands unlit in fear of attracting attention, leaving behind the old blackened tower- which was where the path had ended- and continued to the edge of the forest, Legolas navigating the way with an ease that suggested long practice.

(Aragorn's theory seemed more and more likely as time went on.)

It was all going well when the blonde abruptly pulled to a stop, every muscle tensing in concentration.

Boromir and Aragorn froze as well, hearts pounding in their chests.

And then Legolas became a whir of movement, drawing his wand with elegant circular motions and turning on his heel. The wand pointed unwaveringly at a batch of trees, and the blonde's face was set in a glare.

"Show yourself!"

The other boys followed suit, although there was fear in their eyes, for they had sensed no intruders and they did not look forward to a battle of any sort. With hushed words, they set their wands aglow.

And so it was to everyone's surprise that no monster or teacher came bursting out of the darkness, but the short figure of one Gimli Durinson.

Boromir lowered his wand in relief, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Aragorn do the same, but Legolas stayed as he was, his eyebrows actually furrowing  _more_  at the sight of the redhead.

Evidently, Gimli felt much the same, for at the sight of the blonde his fist tightened upon his own wand, a heavy glare settling on his features.

There were many things that could have happened in that moment- most of which had unpleasant results- but none of those things had a chance to occur, for Aragorn disappeared from Boromir's side and reappeared in between the two in the blink of an eye.

"Gimli, uh, what're you doing here?"

His fellow ginger responded readily enough, but his eyes were unwaveringly following the blonde, who had relaxed his wand but still glared at Gimli with cold eyes.

"Followed you and Boromir, you two were makin' such a ruckus it woke me up. Simple enough to follow you two to the portrait, though I got a little stuck there. Then I just had to follow your footprints… Blondie, where the _heck_  are your footprints?"

Legolas snorted and tilted his chin a degree higher, pointedly looking away.

"Like I'd tell  _you_."

Gimli scowled, and despite Aragorn's pleading looks Legolas did not repent.

"You… Why I outta tell the teachers on ya, sneaking out late at night as you are. Bloody rule breaker!"

Boromir watched as Aragorn tried to appease the angered redhead, his brain trying to come up with reasons as to why Gimli should _not_ tell on them. As it turned out, he wouldn't have to; Legolas would do it for him.

"Maybe you should."

The voice was casual, far too casual for the situation, and it cut off the redhead's angry rant rather effectively. At the sudden silence, the blonde looked up from where he was inspecting his wand, his face completely blank at Gimli's sputters.

"I- um, what?"

Legolas slid his wand back into his pocket, crossing his arms in a nonchalant stance. By then, he had everyone's attention.

"Maybe he should. Tell on us. We did, after all, break the rules. But you know what, he won't."

Gimli's smug smile dropped off his face and he immediately started to protest, but the blonde overrode him.

"No, you won't tell on us. You want to know why?  _Cause then you'll get in trouble too_ _._  You'll get yourself in trouble, and, not one, but  _two_  of your fellow housemates. In all honestly, it'll hurt the Gryffindor house _far_ more than it will hurt Ravenclaw, if you decide to tell."

There was silence amidst the trees at the words.

"So, tell me, is it really worth it, telling on us?"

Gimli fumed, but he had to admit that, no, it wasn't worth it, and so Boromir offered he come along and explained why they were out in the first place. Once his fellow redhead learned about the mysterious lights and the black figures, he was quite curious as well and decided that he would, in fact, join them.

(Although he phrased it in a way that suggested he only came along to keep an eye on Legolas, but that was of little importance, because it meant they weren't going to be in trouble.)

Boromir wondered why the two hated each other so much, but then decided not to say anything about it; it was none of his business.

They walked on for a few more minutes, silence now reining through their small group. It was awkward, but he didn't dare break it, because he didn't want another fight.

And then Legolas tensed once more, except this time he completely froze right in front of Gimli, causing the ginger to crash into him.

Instead of the expected response of yelling and insults, Legolas started to run.

The three Gryffindors shared glances- Aragorn showed concern, Boromir exasperation, and Gimli annoyance- and then started running after the blonde.

As he dashed through the woods- tripping over roots and bushes far more often then he would have liked- Boromir couldn't help but wonder just how good Legolas' senses were; first he noticed Gimli before anyone else, and now he was chasing some random thing that none of them could sense.

And as his breath started to become ragged and his legs sore in effort to keep up, he couldn't help but wonder how on earth Legolas got so fast.

And when they at last found the blonde, all thoughts of wondering vanished into the wind.

For Legolas was there, on his knees, and tears were in his eyes as he gently stroked the white muzzle of a unicorn, silver blood leaking through onto his other hand as he piteously tried put pressure on the gaping wound that slashed open the Unicorn's stomach.

Surrounding him was a small herd of other unicorns, standing silent guardians to their fallen member.

They appeared to notice what the blonde had not, for they became uneasy and restless when Boromir tried to approach. Aragorn grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the sad scene, and then took a tentative step forward to Legolas.

A unicorn reared in response.

Only then did the blonde realize they were there, and he looked up from his quiet murmurs of comfort to address the group. Small tear tracks were tracing their way down his cheeks, and his voice was raw and broken.

"It- It's okay. They're f-friends."

A series of whinnies echoed through the glade.

Legolas looked at them, his hand still softly stroking the fallen unicorn, and called out to them.

"They-they say o-only one of you c-can come…"

Aragorn immediately went forward, making a beeline to his friend and wrapping a comforting arm around the shaking shoulders. The unicorns shifted nervously on their hooves, but made no attempt to stop him.

At the edge of the clearing, Boromir watched in silence until Gimli's gruff voice interrupted.

"I thought unicorns didn't like males…"

Boromir thought he had heard that somewhere as well, but now he was not so sure.

"Yeah, I thought so too…"

Gimli looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowing in growing confusion.

"And he said 'they said', what's up with that? It's not like, he can understand them, right?"

"I- I honestly have no idea…"

And so they watched in silence, and witnessed the death of something that should have never been killed, and the blonde as he quietly comforted the poor creature through her last moments, and then hugged the brunette who comforted him in turn.

And so they watched in silence, as the blonde got up on shaking legs and hugged another unicorn's neck, apologizing over and over for the death of it's loved one, and as the beautiful creature tucked its head around the boy's shoulders, grieving in silence.

And they watched in silence as the blonde kneeled by the fallen unicorn once more, eyes so very heavy and sad, and gently closed its eyes for the last time.

And then the silence was broken, and the chaos erupted.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> *I know, I know, not a very creative last name. I hope you can survive.
> 
> ** I might have skipped a couple of generations between Islidur and Aragorn... Oops?
> 
> *** I based this off my little sister, who's 11. She sometimes does this, be all sulky and philosophical and then run off with cheer and a craving of food.
> 
> **** Can you tell who said what? :)
> 
> ***** Not a lot of screen time for Gimli, sorry Gimli, and all Gimli fans. He'll get more screen time later. Also, I feel that the Dwarf family will celebrate everything after all they've been through- which none of you guys know nothing about, sorry- don't judge.
> 
> ****** Yup, Arod is an owl. A big white showy-offy snowy owl.
> 
> ******* My friends, writing Gandalf Grey instead of Gandalf THE Grey gives one of the weirdest feelings I have ever had.
> 
> So there you go, my take on a Harry Potter/Lotr crossover! This fic will NOT include any characters from the HP books, at least I'm not planning for it, and it will mainly draw story elements from Lotr, not HP.
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter, and I hope it wasn't something you have read a thousand times. I think my favorite bits are the shire being a squib community and Arod being an owl. I find that amusing. I hope you all found it amusing too!


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